What lurks in the shadows
by wouldbewriter23
Summary: Their home was burned to the ground while his father and many of the men of their village were away. While his father and a small group hunt for the taken and their captors, a number of strange occurrences leave Jack wondering why they were taken. And what exactly it was that took them. Previously 'A Guardian's Heart, A Warriors Soul, A Family's Love', by wolfwind97
1. Chapter 1

**I know I'm still working on Immortal Memories ( and if you're just reading my works, I ask you to please read the others, it means so much to me) but when I saw the original story was up for adoption, I thought 'I have so much to work with on this'. So, here we are. For those of you who read the original, I'll let you know that I tweaked a few details, with permission from the original author. **

** Remember, reviews are the life blood of any fanfic. writer. So please drop me one and let me know what you think**

Jack sat staring out his window, propping his cheek on his fist as he glowered out at the world beyond the glass. He watched his father outside, easily discernible from anyone else in the village by his large stature and long white beard – though he was not an old man by any means, barely into his late thirties, he'd had that beard for as long as Jack remembered, making him look like a grandfather more that a dad. The man was packing supplies for his latest hunting trip along with a handful of the other village men, distributing the supplies into packs for each man. As he watched his father grapple with his friend Aster, somewhat of an uncle to Jack, the teenager's mood soured ever more. He should have been out there with them, joking and having fun and getting ready for a hunt. But no; he was stuck in here. Because his father wouldn't let him go. He grumbled when his father turned to look at him and turned his back to the window.

He'd made it very clear when his request to come along was denied that he was never speaking to the man again. Ever. But still the big man lumbered into Jack's room and plopped down next to where the young boy sat hunched away from him. They sat together for some time, Jack doing his best to ignore his father's existence while the man tried to think of a way to talk to his boy.

"How long do you plan to sulk, my boy?" He questioned voice thick with the Russian accent of his native land. Even after fifteen years in their small settlement of Burgess, Nicholas St. North still couldn't quite kick the accent.

"I'm not sulking," Jack objected, still refusing to turn around.

"No, of course not," Nicholas agreed with a chuckle. They lapsed back into silence.

"I don't understand why I can't come!"

Nicholas sighed. It was an argument they'd had many time since he'd told his son he could not accompany him with the hunting party. Jack had yet to come to terms with his father's decision.

"Jack, we have spoken of this. Hunting is not place for a boy."

"I'm not a little boy anymore, dad!" Jack yelled, finally turning to face the man.

The boy's eyes seethed. Sky blue eyes; Nicholas' eyes. The only feature his son had inherited from him, otherwise, the boy just looked like his mother. Dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin and a slim and lanky body that he'd yet to fully grow into. But Jack's eyes were all from his father. And he knew what kind if temper lurked behind those eyes; it was why the two butted heads so often.

"Yes, this I know," he admitted, dragging his meaty hand across his face.

He sighed and looked at his son. He may not have been a little boy, but he was still so small compared to Nicholas. Still so fragile; so young. They had celebrated his fourteenth birthday not even a moon beforehand. And really, Nicholas didn't think he could ever really stop think of Jack as his little boy. And here he was, asking his father to bring him into the most dangerous situation possible.

"But it is too dangerous," he declared, decision made.

"Then you shouldn't go either!"

"We need this."

"Why? We have plenty of food from the farm. Why do we need anything from a hunt that is too dangerous for me?"  
>"It is not for us alone but for the village. And until you understand that you will never be ready!" Nicholas shouted, utterly sick of the repeated conversation.<p>

Jack's protest came to a halt, breath leaving in shudder. His father never shouted at him, never even raised his voice, no matter how heated their arguments. Nicholas looked just as shocked, mouth gaping as much as his son's. Jack firmed his quivering bottom lip, jumping to his feet and turning on his heels to stalk away, crossing his arms in a stubborn display. Behind him, his father sighed once more, climbing to his feet.

"I will be back in a fortnight, and we will talk then, yes?" No respond. "I love you, Jack. Very much." Still nothing, and when Nicholas attempted to run a hand through brown locks, Jack shoved him away. Down hearted by the reply, Nicholas stumbled out of the room.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Outside, Nicholas' wife, Katherine and their small daughter, Emma waited for him, as did the members of his hunting party. He was still heavy in his heart when he went to them, even when his wife kissed him. She eyed him sympathetically when she pulled away, eyes shining in understanding, as always.

"I'll talk to him, dear," she promised, her voice light with the same accent he carried. She gave the man another kiss, "in the mean time, you watch over yourself out there, Nick."

"Always, Kat," he agreed.

Returning his wife's kiss, he moved to their daughter. Emma clung to his neck when he lifted her, laughing all the while. Like Jack, Emma was the spitting image of their mother. She was a teeny tiny version of Katherine, and Nicholas loved her all the more for it. He placed a kiss on her brow before placing her back on the ground, this time crouching to her level.

"I'll give Jack a good kick," the ten year old swore, crossing her heart. North smiled and held a hand up as Katherine began to reprimand the girl.

"I think your mother can handle that fine. But, you watch boy, yes? You know mischief he gets into."

The girl nodded and promised. Nicholas laughed, gave his daughter another kiss and did the same for his wife. Then he turned back to the house where Jack was still pouting in the window. When he caught his father gaze, he turned away hotly, staring at the opposite wall. Nicholas sighed again, and went to join the rest of the party.

"Hey North. You're boy still mad attcha?" Aster asked. Even though Nicholas had taken the name Overland when he and Katherine came to their new home, his friends still referred to him by his given surname and he himself often went by it.

The grey haired Australian was in his late twenties tanned and well muscled from constant work in the fields. He'd come to Burgess about the same time Nicholas and Katherine did, with Jack just on the way. They had been close ever since. The man sighed and nodded, glancing back at his home once more.

"Don' worry about it. Ya know how teenagers are."

"No, I do not."

"Oh, then yer in fer a rough learnin' patch, mate," Aster informed with a laugh.

North slumped at the thought. Jack had become quite the stubborn teenager in recent years. He honestly didn't know how much more he could take. At the light pat on his thigh North looked down, his gaze meeting the sympathetic golden eyes of the short blonde to his left. Sanderson, or Sandy as he had somehow become known, was one of the oldest settlers in the area. And though he was mute since birth, the man was incredibly well liked in the area. He was as much an uncle to North's children as Aster had become.

"Thank you, my friend," he said, clapping the small man on the back.

"Don' worry, mate. He'll understand one day," Aster assured, placing a hand on the larger man's shoulder.

North looked back to his family, to where Jack still sat at his window.

"I truly hope not," he admitted.

No matter how hard the conflict over Jack's lack of understanding was, he never wanted the boy to understand. He could never put his little boy in the situation he and the other men constantly faced. There was a reason many of them never came back from these trips. No matter how much it tore at their relationship, North could never allow Jack to understand. Turning back to the sympathetic gazes of his friends, he smiled and made his way over to the rest of their company.

"Alright, we move out. With any luck we will be able to bring back really meat to our families." At the collective cheer of agreement, North set off into the trees

Sending one last glance to his family, he disappeared into the darkness of the woods. He truly hoped they would come home with meat. Otherwise it would be very difficult to explain why they always had to be away from home for such long stretches of time.

**Yeah, I borrowed Katherine from the books for North's wife. It jumped out at me as I was writing. And while people like to use Pippa for Jack's sister, I prefer Emma or Mary. So yeah. **

**Remember: Review, life blood. Hope you enjoyed.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was a three day march deep into the forest until they reached their destination. Three brutal days of trekking through the dense jungle surrounding their home. But they made it. No trouble, no casualties. It was a good start, in North's opinion.

"This is where disturbance was reported. We make camp here," he announced when they came to a clearing in the trees, dropping his pack.

Turning at the collective sigh of relief as his men dropped to the ground, North studied the trees, and the shadows within. He felt more than saw Aster move to join him. The younger man crossed his arms and studied the trees the same way as North, a frown worrying his face.

"What are we up against here, North?" he asked finally, sneaking a glance at his friend.

"Do not know. Does not matter." North returned Aster's glance.

"We will defeat threat when it shows its ugly face."

"Damn right we will!" Aster agreed with a laugh, slapping North on the back, a confident smirk on his face as he turned back to the others to help set up camp.

North smiled at his younger friend's enthusiasm and turned back to the trees, a feeling of unease that he couldn't place settling in his gut. They would destroy whatever threatened their home; they always did. It had been that way for years, beginning shortly after the first settlement of their village. _Things_ had begun to attack the village, viciously, killing any out after dark. First they were thought to be overly bold animals –but they weren't, no animal was like that _nothing was_—

North shook himself back to the present, regaining his train of thought. They had and always would protect their village, and the people who lived there. But the big man had a feeling something very wrong was happening back home. He felt it, in his belly.

-Line Break –Line Break –Line Break-

It had been six days since North and the hunting party had set out. Almost a week and Jack still hadn't stopped his pouting. He sulked as he did his chores around the house and farm. Moped when he went into town; he kept the sour look on his face when he went to bed. And during dinner on the sixth night of his perpetual pouting, Emma decided to take action.

She threw her bread roll at him, hitting him in the face. Which earned her a sulky glare from her sibling.

"Your face will freeze like that," she accused. Katherine rolled her eyes and Jack sputtered.

"It will not!"

"Will too. You better stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"_Am not_!"

"Are too!"

"Mom!"

"Children," Katherine warned with a sigh. Oh the joys of having two opinionated children.

"Jack, you cannot keep this up."

"It's not fair!" Jack complained, going back to his sulking.

"Sweetie, you're too young to go with them."

"Aster went when he was my age! Boasts about it all the time, how he's still the youngest in the group."

"Oh, that's what this is about," Katherine sighed, rubbing her temples.

Aster was not only a type of adopted uncle to Jack, but also a big brother. They were best friends, co-terror creators, close as any blood kin. They were also the most stubborn of rivals. Anything Aster did Jack had to do. And be ten times better at it. Aster was the same with anything Jack was good at. It was a constant source of stress and pounding migraines. Any time on out did the other, this sulking went on for weeks.

"Jack," she had to tread carefully here. One wrong moved could lead to a tantrum that would last a month, at least. Her boy was very stubborn when it came to mourning any wrong he thought was done on him.

"You and Aster….. are very similar," she decided, watching his reaction. "But you are not the same. What Aster was like at your age is not how you are," and now the hard part, "you are not ready to go out."

Jack kicked the table leg and exploded, declaring 'that's stupid!' as he kicked the leg again and again, shaking the table and the food on its surface. And Katherine decided it was enough.

"Don't speak to me that way," she snapped. "And stop kicking my table!"

Jack yanked his foot back and shrank into the back of his chair. While his mother may have yelled at him more frequently than his father – almost all the time, to be honest – it didn't make it any less frightening, especially when she turned the Look on him. Luckily he was saved from being fried under the Look by a loud crash outside.

"Dingle got out again," Emma chimed, looking up from her intense focus on her food. She hated it when Mama yelled.

"Oh that damn horse. I don't know why your father insists on keeping it," Katherine grumbled.

"I'll get him mom!" Jack declared, jumping out of his chair so fast it nearly fell over. He dashed over to the door, pulling on his cloak and boots as quickly as he could.

"Don't think you've avoid this conversation, Jack," his mother warned.

Jack forced down a curse and quelled the impulse to slam his fist on the door frame. He glanced over his shoulder, gave a call of his understanding and jogged outside to find his father's horse.

They had two horses in their stables, and Dingle was his father's favorite. Jack never understood why. Dingle was stubborn, didn't let anyone but North ride him, was a terrible work horse, and really, kind of stupid. But North loved him. And every time North left the village, Dingle fussed and kicked at the fence until he got out.

Well, Jack thought, at least he always went to the same place. Jack moved through the trees with ease, much more limber and at home in the woods than anyone else in his village. Much better at forest trekking than _Aster_, he thought with a smirk. Ah, and there was Dingle, at the lake where he always was. Bet Aster couldn't have found Dingle that quickly. The thought made him smile.

Jack moved to the horse slowly and quietly; spooking a horse was never a good idea, something his father taught him very early on.

"Hey there, Dingle," he said softly when he came up next to the horse. He wasn't a bad looking horse, Jack had to admit; he had a very beautiful reddish-brown coat over powerful muscles. Didn't make him any less stupid or annoying, though.

"Look, I know you love it here, boy. I do too, but we need to head back now." The horse only snorted and bent down to drink from the lake.

Jack sighed and patted the horse's neck, sinking to the ground and looking around the lake. It really was beautiful here. Serene, dazzling; it was Jack's favorite place to go and get away. If there was a fight with his parents, Aster, or if he felt overwhelmed, Jack always came here to feel better.

He wondered how Aster and his dad were doing out there. He sat there thinking of the two for a while before he looked up and realized the sun had begun to sink as he wandered through the woods and was lost in his thoughts. That wasn't good, his mom was probably worried sick with him out so long.

"Come on, Dingle, time to go home," he sighed, moving to his feet. He grabbed the horse's reigns and led him through the trees. "I have to go get my head chewed off," he added in a mumble, smiling when Dingle nuzzled his head.

Okay, he conceded while he stroked the horse's nose, maybe Dingle wasn't so bad. He gave a laugh when the horse nipped at his pockets. He shoved the head away, and it only made Dingle more persistent to get at his pant pockets.

"I don't have any food," he told the horse with a laugh, pushing the wandering mouth away more firmly. "If you hadn't run away, you wouldn't be hungry," he informed, raising his brow, feeling happier than he'd been in almost a week.

He _had_ been sulking, he realized, smile slipping away. Man, now he had to apologize to his mom. He _hated_ that. Oh well, she was right and he'd been a brat. Time to diffuse the tension in the house.

He was almost to the village when he saw a shadow dart in the side of his vision. He put a calming hand on Dingle's neck when the horse started to fuss, eyes darting in panic. He shushed the animal and crept into the pushes where the shadow had gone. Peeking through the branches, Jack froze and held his breath.

In front of him, not a foot away, was a line of men, on horseback and on foot. They were dressed in all black, their horses the same color, all so dark the blended into the night. They were all staring at his village. Jack felt his stomach drop when the men drew their swords, gleaming in the moon light.

"Take as many as you can," the man on the center horse ordered, "kill any who resist."

Jack felt his heart sink into his stomach as the men moved forward, toward the village, _his_ village. He waited for them to leave trying to control his breathing, his muscles tensed and begging to run, his heart pounding so loud he was afraid someone would hear. And when the last remaining man, the one who'd given the orders, turned to where he was hiding he stopped breathing altogether, terrified someone _had_ heard him. The man gave a few tentative sniffs to the air, then took a deep breathe through his nose, throwing his head back. Jack saw a terrifying smile as the man looked back at the bush, then let out a sigh of relief when the man rode off. To… his village. Right, not good.

Jack took a calming breathe and dashed back to Dingle. He swung onto the horse's back and grabbed the reigns. There was no saddle, but it wasn't too much a problem, he'd learned to ride bareback long ago. It was just more of a pain.

"Come on, Dingle, we've gotta get back!" he urged, spurring the horse forward.

Jack didn't know if Dingle was just responding to the urgency in his voice or if the horse really understood what was going on. Either way Dingle rushed forward at Jack's urging, despite the boy not being his preferred rider, racing back to the village.

The village, that was currently on fire.

The buildings crackled as they burned. People ran about in a wild panic, and Jack just watched in horror as the men in black herded them. When a woman was slashed down by a man on horseback Jack jerked back to reality. He needed to get to Emma and his mother. That in mind, he directed Dingle toward his house. It too was on fire, and there was no sign of his family.

"Mom! Emma!" He called as he dismounted. "Mom, Em! Where are you?!"

He ran forward with no thought and it proved to be a mistake. He felt a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, lifting him off the ground and dragging him back. He kicked and flailed, clawing at the arms holding him as he tried to kick at the man's legs.

"Put me down! Let me go!"

"Silence, boy!" Jack froze when he felt the cold bite of the sword against his throat. He went completely limp, breathing heavily.

"Jack!" he heard his mother call in terror.

He looked over when the sword at his throat was moved to point at the voice. His mother stood just outside their burning home, looking strong but terrified. Emma cowered behind her, clutching at the skirt of Katherine's dress. The man waved the sword at the two, Jack felt his anger rise and this time when he struggled in the man's hold, it was in attack rather than panic.

The man dropped him when Jack's heel connected with his knee with a sickening crack. The man fell on his side with a cry and Jack scrambled to grab the man's fallen sword. He smacked the butt of the weapon on the man's head, then wacked him twice more after he was unconscious for good measure. Then he dashed over to his mother and sister, sword still in hand.

"Jack!"

"Mom, Em! Are you okay?" He asked when he reached them.

Emma latched herself onto his waist as soon as he was in reach. Katherine wrapped an around Jack's shoulder and pulled him – and by extension, Emma – to her chest.

"What's going on?" Emma asked tearfully, big brown eyes wet with tears when she looked up from where her face was buried on Jack's stomach.

"It's going to be alright," he promised, rubbing the girl's hair.

"We need to get everyone out of here," he said, turning to his mother.

The woman nodded and pulled her children along. They found a number of villagers hiding among the burning buildings, and they all made their way to the trees. There were only a handful of them, only a little over twenty out of the hundreds in the village. But they all made it to the trees, Jack in the lead. Unfortunately, even with their small numbers, they still attracted unwanted attention.

They were surrounded before they even made the tree line, swords all around, people on the edges snatched away. Jack eyed the man in front of the group – the leader – moved forward, that dangerous smile from earlier plastered on his face. He looked Jack over, smiling in amusement at the sword the boy raised to meet him.

"You're a trouble maker, aren't you?" He said, meeting Jack's eyes.

Jack lunged forward in response, ignoring his mother's cry of concern, blade meeting the other man's. The other men cheered their leader on as they herded more and more of the group away. Jack gave everything he could in the fight, the sword shaking in his hand with every strike. North had been very persistent in teaching Jack to fight, specifically with swords. The man would often dazzle his young son with stories from his homeland (North was something like a Russian pirate – or, _bandit_, as he put it) while he trained the younger Jack with in the use of the most basic weapons. It certainly paid off now, and he was pretty skilled with a blade. But the man was far better, and Jack was losing ground fast.

His sword was knocked from his hand when another man grabbed him from behind. The leader slashed at him once more, leaving a long gash from the center of his chest to his left shoulder. He vaguely heard Katherine shout in terror as the lackey threw him to the side. Jack brought a trembling hand to his shoulder and it came back slick with blood. The cut was shallow, but it still bled profusely and Jack felt sick at the sight of it.

Pain bloomed through his lower chest when the lackey delivered a swift to his ribs and rolled the teenager onto his back. He heard his mom begging for the man to stop in between calls for her son from where one of the other men held her with a sword against her throat. The lackey above him raised his weapon, ready to plunge the blade into his vulnerable chest. He should have been afraid, the shouts from his mother certainly suggested it, but he was too shocked from the blood leaking from his shoulder to feel much of anything.

"Hold it," the leader called as the lackey prepared to pierce Jack's exposed chest. He swiped a dab of Jack's blood from the flat of the blade with his thumb, smearing it between the pads of his fingers as he studied it.

"But sir, you said—"

"I'm aware of what I said. But we'll be needing him; so get him up!" He ordered.

"Yes, Captain," the lackey answered, pulling Jack roughly to his feet.

Jack struggled weakly as the man tied his hands behind his back, aggravating his wound. He slowly came back to himself as he was marched to the others of his village, tied together by the hands, like cattle. He flailed in the lackey's gripped, throwing his head back so it flopped against his captor's mid-chest. The lackey responded with a harsh hit to the head, making Jack see stars.

"I greatly desire to kill this insolent little shit, sir," Jack heard the lackey call to the captain as the leader mounted his horse.

"Bailee that!

"In fact, I'll be taking him," the captain declared, scooping Jack up and on the horse by the waist. The moved jostled his gash, sending a bolt of pain through his chest that left him panting and exhausted.

"He won't be able to walk with that shoulder and we can't have him dying on the way. Now send the crop on their way, we're moving out," he ordered with finality.

He urged his horse forward, leaving the lackey grumbling none too happily behind him. Jack blinked back the exhaustion and the lingering ringing in his ears from the blow to the head, focusing on his surroundings. Then he put what little reserves of strength he had into struggling.

"Get your hands off me! Let go of –ack!" Jack's words were cut off by the tight hand around his throat.

Dark flowers bloomed around his vision as the captain pulled Jack's head back to rest on his shoulder.

"I am the reason you're still alive right now," he snarled, breathe hot on the shell of Jack's ear. "So shut up and do as I say, you hear?"

The grip on his throat vanished, leaving Jack gasping and chocking. The captain kept a firm hold on Jack's waist as the dark horse trotted forward, passing the line of villagers as they were marched forward. Jack may not have been able to escape, or have had anywhere to go if he was able to, but that didn't mean he was going to make things any easier for the man. He tested the roped on his wrists as he twisted in the captain's grip, hoping to loosen one or the other. The man only tightened his grip and pulled Jack more firmly against his chest. With his mobility full restricted, Jack did the only thing he could think of.

"Dad!" He called, jerking pathetically in the strong grip. "DAD! _Daddy, help me please_!"

But the only response was the laughter of the horrible men and their captain as the people were lead away from their smoldering village.

-Line Break –Line Break –Line Break-

North jerked awake in a cold sweat, instantly forgetting what woke him. It had been another three days since they had made camp in this clearing, and every night nightmares had plagued his sleep. None had frightened him like that. But the fear from this one still lingered in his veins, leaving him cold and terrified. Jack, it was something about Jack. His eyes widened as his heart froze. Jack was in trouble.

North jumped to his feet, waking everyone near him as he went to his pack. His boy, his boy was in danger.

"North? North, mate, what are ya doin'?" Aster questioned as lumbered over to the man, still half asleep.

"I must go. We must go back," North muttered as he frantically re-packed his supplies.

"What? North, it's the middle of the night. And we still haven't found the—"

"I don't care!" North exploded, turning to his friend and grasping the younger man's arm in desperation.

"Something is wrong. I've known something was wrong since left village and now….now fear something awful has happened. Happened to my boy," he said in a whisper.

Aster the older man for a moment, concerned for both North and the possibility that something had gone back home; they took almost all of the able bodied with them on the trips, the village would be near defenseless in an attack. It sounded insane, like the ramblings of a madman. But Aster had learned over the years to trust North and his instincts. His belly, as the big man loved to put it.

"Alright, I suppose we're headed out then. Let's move!" He called to the other men who were either still asleep or watching.

North finished packing and lifted the pack to his shoulder, ready to head out even if it was without his men. Something was happening and they needed to get home. He looked down at the tug on his sleeve. Sandy looked up at him in concern; not in the concern that the man was losing his mind, like the other men were shooting their leader as they packed, but concern for what had him worried so.

"Something is wrong; I know it," North whispered, clutching his sabers – his weapons of choice on these trips – as he began to pace. "I fear we may have left them exposed with this journey. I fear we may have left them vulnerable to the monsters."

Sandy nodded in understanding, looking just as concerned as North. They had learned long ago that the monsters of nightmares were quite real. And it was never good to be vulnerable to them.

All that was left to do was head home. And pray he was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

They were too late. North knew it the moment he stumbled out of the woods and they saw the woman lying at their feet. She was clearly dead; they all knew it even as Sandy rushed to check her, slashed through the heart. North hardly paid her any mind; couldn't has he numbly made his way to what remained of the village. They were too late. They had walked through the night, finishing a three day journey by sun rise. But still, the village was reduced to ashes, the people were gone and they were too late. In his guilty and horrified musings, he somehow wandered to his smoldered home, and after a moment of staring at it in dazed terror he charged into the smoking pile.

"Jack! My boy, answer me!" he begged. "Kat! Emma, please!"

He tore throw burnt wood as he yelled. He didn't care that his voice was hysterical and that his family couldn't be among the wreckage. They had to be there they had to be there, where were they?! Where was his family? They couldn't have been too late for them. Please, let them not be too late for his family!

"North," Aster called, taking in the sad sight of North calling for his family as he threw bits of charred wood about. "North, we found survivors. They're holed up in house on the edge; it's relatively untouched, they seem fine."

"My boy? Emma, Kat?" North asked, grasping Aster's forearms as he begged for answers.

"Ah don't know, mate. The others are with them, Ah went ta get ya."

North raced forward, pulling Aster along and demanding the younger man to give directions. Please, please be there. He needed his family to be alright. They came to the cottage Aster spoke of in seconds, charred but still standing. North hardly took the time to look it over before he busted right in. There was only a handful of people huddled inside, no more than thirty not counting the men in the hunting party.

"Jack, Katherine! My family, is my family here, please?" He asked, shaking the first person he came across. The man wouldn't meet his gaze. No one would. "Please."

"Nicholas."

"Manny. My family?" He asked, letting the poor by stander go as he turned the stout man.

Manfred Lunanoff was the eldest man in the village, and by extension its unspoken leader. He was in his late fifties, and showed no signs of leaving them any time soon. Despite his short stature, barely reaching North's mid-chest, the man was strong. A thin crop of white hair sat on his rounded head; his face was equally round, kind and trustworthy. North respected him greatly.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas," Manny said in answer.

North deflated. He should have known. There was no sign of his family anywhere in the house, and they would have been impossible to miss among such a small crowd. But still, he'd hoped.

"Your son put up an impressive fight, but still he was taken. Along with your wife and daughter, and most of the village."

North had to smile proudly despite the disheartening news. Of course Jack would go down fighting, trying to protect his loved ones. That was his boy.

"And I'm afraid we have worse news yet," Manny continued.

"What could be _worse_?" Aster objected.

"That without the people taken – many of them our farmers, tradesmen—we will not be able to function." He let that sink in, meeting Aster's and then North's gazes.

"Without them, we will not make it through winter."

Oh. Yeah, that was about as bad as thing could possibly get. North ran a hand over his tired face. God, he felt so exhausted; he couldn't deal with this right now. But it had to be dealt with. And now was the only time.

"Then we will get them back," he demand, putting as much strength as he could behind it.

Even if he had to do it alone, he would get them back.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

They'd been going for hours, through the day and into the following night. An entire day since they'd been taken and they still hadn't stopped. Jack was lightheaded and woozy the entire time, and the bouncing of the horse he rode wasn't helping his nausea. His chest and shoulder throbbed horribly and his head was worse. When were they going to stop?! He slumped forward, bending over the arm that held him and rested his forehead against the ebony neck of the horse. It was then that they finally stopped, just as the moon was rising.

"Let's make camp here!" The captain announced, pulling the march to a halt.

He dismounted, pulling Jack off once he was on the ground and scooped the boy into his arms bridal style. Jack wasn't entirely happy with the position, but he was too lightheaded and tired to put up a fight. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he could still see the tied villagers being separated into small groups and tethered to various posts, either trees or poles staked into the ground, as tents were set up for their abductors. He blinked lazily up at the man carrying him, and could only think of _dark_ as a description. Black hair, dark eyes, even his skin – which was actually very, very pale— looked dark in the shadow of the hood he still wore. Jack couldn't really tell why, but all the dark made him very uneasy, even in his haze of blood loss.

"Alright then, let's get that looked at, yeah?" He suggested cheerfully as he placed Jack on the ground.

The captain slowly and carefully peeled the bloody shirt away, pulling it over Jack's head and down to his still bound hands, where it bunched at his forearms. And again, Jack did not take too kindly to the action. Only this time he didn't put up with the man, and weakly kicked out at his leg.

"Now, now, none of that," the captain chided.

He slapped a heavy hand to Jack's injured shoulder and slowly kneaded his finger painfully into the flesh of his shoulder positioning his hand so the palm put painful pressure on the slash. Jack winced and cried out the grip increased and his shoulder felt as if it was set on fire.

"I don't have to be so nice, little boy," the man growled in Jack's ear, digging the heel of his hand into the cut, making the teenager scream.

"If you don't want to bleed to death, or die of infection, you best be on your best behavior. Understand?"

Jack nodded eagerly, blinking back tears of pain. He sighed in relief when the pressure receded. The captain nodded in approval, then went to gather rapping gauze and a bottle of alcohol.

"Drink this, you'll need liquids," he ordered, pushing a cup of water to his lips.

Jack hesitated but drank, not wanting to anger the man into hurting him further. He gave a pained hiss as the man touched at his wound.

"Ow, that's a nasty one." The captain winced in sympathy, like he _hadn't_ been the one to cause it. "We better clean it up."

Jack really didn't like the obvious joy the man took in his pain, or the delighted expression he wore whenever he looked at the gash. Jack swore he actually _sniffed_ it a few times as he was cleaning it out. But he kept his mouth shut, letting only a few pained hisses out as he rubbed the alcohol into the gash, cleaning any potential infection out. Then he wrapped the wound and pulled the bloody shirt back over his head.

"I want to see my family," Jack demanded softly after a time.

"I don't see why not." The man cut the bonds on Jack's hands and repositioned them in front of him and retied them. "No more horsey rides for you," he teased, ruffling Jack's hair.

Jack gave a wine and shoved the hand away, but didn't fight as he was dragged away by his bound wrists, eyes on the ground. It was only a day, and already Jack didn't know how much more of this he could take. At a worried and relieved call from his mother he looked up. Katherine and Emma were tied to the base of a tree in front of him, terrified but unharmed. Jack's hands were bound to the tree as well and he was forced to his knee beside his family.

"Now, get some sleep." He ordered, messing Jack's hair again. "All of you. We move at first light.

With that he stalked off, leaving the three only. Jack sighed and slumped against the tree, closing his aching eyes. He forced one heavy eye open when he felt a slight weight settle against him. Emma curled up to his best she could, nuzzling him for comfort as she often would when she was frightened. He smiled down at her—or, well, tried to; his face didn't quite want to go through with it –and met his mother's worried gaze as she looked him over.

"Are you alright?" Katherine asked, eying his bloodied shoulder.

"I'm fine. They treated it," he assured.

"Why are they doing this?" Emma's voiced was small and frightened next to him and he scrambled for a response.

"Because they're bad men, baby," Katherine said, meeting her daughter's eyes and sending her a warm and comforting look.

"And bad men do terrible things just because they can," she explained.

Emma's little face screw up as she tried to process her mother's explanation. It was adorable, the way her nose scrunched up. It made Jack smile warmly, for real this time.

"But….. Papa will find us and he'll stop them. Because he's a good man, right?"

Now Katherine was at a loss as she looked at her daughter's hopeful face. How could she assure her child of she something knew, logically, was wrong, impossible? And at the same time, how could she crush that hopeful little face and the undying faith Emma held in her father? But this time it was Jack who came up with the answer.

"Of course he will, Em. That's what he does."

And it was something Jack had no problem confirming. Because he believed it. His father could do anything, move mountains, control the heavens, anything! And he could do it because he was Jack's dad. It was that simple.

He looked to his mom, trying to encourage the same confidence he and Emma had. All he got was a sad look and a suggestion to go to sleep. He did so with no problem – it was an exhausting day, after all – sorely confused. Dad would find them, wouldn't he? He would move heaven and earth to get to them. How could he do anything else?

Jack jerked awake late in the night, shaken and confused to what woke him. Then he heard it again; a high pitched, frightened shriek from in the darkness to their right. He huddled closer to his mother, who shifted her weight to press more steadily against his. She was staring in the direction of the screams, which had already faded away, obviously woken the same way he was.

"What was that?" He asked in a frightened whisper.

She looked to him and tried to smile comfortingly. It came out as more of a frightened grimace, so Jack huddled closer, both for her comfort and for his.

"I don't know, Jack. But it going to be alright," she promised.

She settled back against the tree and closed her eyes. Jack tried to do the same, but couldn't stop staring into the darkness. He wasn't so sure _anything_ was going to be okay.

The next morning they were yanked away from trees and out of slumber at the beginning of dawn. Jack blinked awake, glaring sleepily at the captain as the man pulled him up. They weren't kidding about moving at first light, he though with a groan.

He stumbled as he was yanked forward, tethered to his mother, and Emma tethered to him. They were all bound, wrists to waist, all the way up the line.

"Told you, no more horse-back ride," the captain joked.

Jack snarled and spit in the man's face as he moved to ruffled Jack's hair again. He really hated that. The captain scowled and swiped the saliva away. Then the back of his hand met Jack's cheek with a loud smack, sending Jack reeling and making him taste blood.

"I also said I don't have to be so nice. Don't test me," he warned, growling in Jack's face.

The captain cupped the boy's smaller face, running a thumb over Jack's bottom lip. He smeared the small dab of blood from where Jack had bitten his lip with the pad of his thumb, mixing it with saliva until it covered his thumb. Jack shuddered and glared. Why did the man insist on touching him?

"We're moving out!" he shouted, spurring the line forward.

"Behave, now. Otherwise, I'll have to kill you before you can perform your higher purpose," he added, speaking only to Jack, wiping the blood and spit on his thumb on Jack's cheek.

Jack wrenched away with an annoyed groan. He glared at the man's back as he walked away laughing, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder until the wetness on his cheek vanished. He pondered the man's words. 'Higher purpose'. What did that mean?

"Jack, don't aggravate these people," Katherine warned, glancing at him over her shoulder, her voice snapping him back to reality.

"I know, mom," Jack sighed. He glanced up and down the line, brow furrowed in concern.

"Mom, did you see the Johnsons at all?" he asked after a moment.

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson weren't exactly close Jack's parents, but they knew each other. Then again, that wasn't overly spectacular; everyone in the village knew each other. But their son was around Jack's age, so two spent time together, even if they didn't particularly like each other. And their families also hung around each other by default, so they were easily recognizable, even among the crowd. They were defiantly captured as well; Jack had seen them near his mom and Emma. But he hadn't seen any sign of them this morning.

"I haven't seen most of the people here, honey," Katherine countered, but Jack could hear the uneasy in her voice. She knew something was wrong, too.

Before he could question her further, they were jerked forward, and the march continued. The motioned aggravated Jack's wound and he winced. When was this going to stop?

I wanted to go home, he thought, tears clogging his throat. Oh did he want to go home. He wanted his dad.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

The remaining villagers were in a panic, terrified at the idea of death at winter's hands. Many of them were too old to attempt any rescue. The rest were wounded, or too young. And they were not going to take the men from the hunting party; not after this. And so that left North. At least he was already packed. All that was left now was to grab a few more supplies and his weapons.

"Figured ya'd try this."

North jumped from where he crouched jamming the last of the food he could afford to take at Aster's voice. He turned to face the younger man, who stood in the door way. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, an annoyed scowl on his face. North tried not to cringe in guilt at the look; he had nothing to feel guilty for.

"Do not try to stop me," North warned with a glare. "I am going to save my family."

"Course ya are. And Ah can' just let ya go off half-cocked alone, now can Ah," he said, shouldering his own pack.

North felt his glare melt away, his heart warmed and touched. He pushed the feeling down with a sigh. This was his mission; a dangerous one that he couldn't risk anyone else on.

"Aster, I cannot ask you to do this."

"Good thing yer not askin'"

"The village needs you, we cannot leave it so unguarded a second time.

"Every other man here will guard them with their lives. The village will be fine."

"Aster, I will not have you risk yourself for my family."

"Don't give me that, North!" Aster snapped.

He gave them man a dark glare for even thinking to say such a thing. North stumbled back, both at the tone and the look that followed. Aster took a calming breath and looked toward North a sympathetic look.

"North, Ah love them. Ah love them as much you do.

"You and Kat took me in when ya had no reason ta," he continued despite North's flabbergasted expression. "Took care of me in a strange new place when Ah had no one else; gave me someone ta count on. Ah've known yer ankle-bitter since before they could crawl. Ah watched Em take her first steps, say her first word. Ah practically grew up with Jackie!

"Ah love you all—you, Kat, Jackie, Em. More than anything. They're my family too, North."

Aster turned away, blinking back the sting of tears, and North wiped away his own while the younger man wasn't looking. Aster wasn't usually one for emotional spiels. But wow, he could sell his point. North had never thought of it that way, which now that he thought about it was rather thick of him. He smiled, placing a hand on Aster shoulder.

"Then we will get them back, yes?"

Aster's head snapped around as he stared at the man, startled. Then he smiled, a he clapped the big man on the opposite shoulder.

"Yea, let's go. Besides, let's face it; ya'd wind up on the other side of the world without me." He laughed when North scowled at him. The man couldn't track anything to save his life.

The two set out of the house, almost tripping over Sandy as they laughed. The little man stood before them with his own pack, face determined and arms crossed stubbornly. North let out a breath that was half laugh and half sigh. Why did he think he would have to, or even _could_ go off on his own for this?

"Is there any reason to try and talk you out of coming?" North asked smiling as the tiny man shook his head.

"Best of luck to all of you."

The three turned to face the voice, where Manny stood with a proud smile.

"We will bring them back, Manny," North assured.

The older man nodded, but his smile dropped as he watched them go. He was the one to train them to protect their home from the things that stalked it in the night, and they were good, formidable. But he had the sinking feeling that they were up against something he hadn't prepared them to face.


	4. Chapter 4

North pushed them at a brutal pace as soon as they left the village. And he had to, the big man reasoned. Even if the villagers weren't taken by anything of the supernatural variety, whatever they'd been captured for still wouldn't be _good_. After all, humans could be just a malicious and cruel as any of the monsters that stalked their world. Just the thought of anyone of the horrors humanity was capable of being inflicted on his family had North's stomach curling. So he pushed them; the faster they found the missing, the more likely it was that the three would find them alive.

Of course, with Aster at the front, as he was the only one who could track their lost fellow villagers, the younger man was more in charge of setting the pace than North was. It rather conflicted with North's preferred speed, which irked the man to no end. As did Aster's set schedule for daily travel.

"What do you mean we're stopping?!" He demanded.

"Ah mean we're stoppin' fer the night. It'll be dark soon," Aster explained again, meeting the older man's stare with no hesitation.

"There are hours of light left, we can keep moving!" It was the third time in as many days that they'd come to a stop with so much time left in the day. This was bordering on insanity, and North was putting his foot down.

"Not worth the risk."

""Not worth the risk? Not. Worth. The. _Risk_! Do not tell me is not—every day we waste is a day further ahead of us they get with my family!"

"Nick!" Aster snapped, stalking forward until the two were only a breath apart. "Stumblin' about in the dark isn't gonna help anythin'. In fact, we're likely to waltz right off the trail and _that_ will take 'em further from us! You want any chance of getting' 'em back, then ya gotta shut up an' follow my lead!" Aster took a calming breath and gathered his wits now that North was too stunned to grip at him.

"We gotta be smart about this, North," he continued in a gentler voice, seeing from the North's defeated face that he was getting through to the elder man. "Which means we gotta stop when it gets dark. Trust me."

North exhaled slowly, form hunching forward in acceptance of the point. It wouldn't help anything to go wandering around clueless in the dark, he knew that. But that didn't quell the unease in his gut.

Three days, they had been on the move for _three_ _days_. That made four days that his family had been with whatever foul things made up their captors. Four days for however had them to do all manner of things, horrible things, to his wife, his little boy or his darling baby girl. And didn't that thought just make it so he couldn't breathe.

He sank to the ground under such thoughts, feeling old, far, far too old to be doing this.

"I want them back, Aster. If something happened to them I don't, I don't know what I'll," North trailed off, hiding his face in his hands as his throat closed off.

"Ah know, me either. Yer tired, mate. Ya won' do 'em any good like this. Get some rest," the younger encouraged as he knelt to North's level and placed a hand on the bigger man's shoulder.

North nodded, mostly to himself, and settled into a more comfortable position on the ground. And tried to banish the images of his family dead or tortured from his mind. He just tried to focus on taking deep, calming breaths as he watched Aster and Sandy make the camp fire. Tried to work on regaining his strength, hoping it would soothe the painful twinge in his stomach.

It may have been the fact that he was focusing on anything other than his thoughts that North realized they'd been followed. His eyes flew open and narrowed, but he kept his body still and relaxed. Ever so slowly, he reached for his sword while his eyes scanned the area for whatever it was that was stalking them. He kept perfectly still, his grip on the hilt of his sword firm.

There! In the outcrop of rock just next to where they were making camp: a humanoid shadow. Threat identified, North drew his sword and leaped up, darting to the rocks before the shadow could even register his movement. North hit the shadowed figure in a full bodied tackle, and it gave a surprised, very feminine shriek as it was dragged to the ground. As the two rolled away from the rock and into the fire light, where North promptly pinned the figure down with a sword to the throat, he saw why. Their stalker was a woman, just a young girl, a few years younger than Aster.

The girl was a tiny thing, willowy thin with delicate features. Her big violate eyes rested over a small, petite bird like nose, all wrapped up in a pretty sun-kissed, soft, heart shaped face. Those eyes focused on his face, obviously terrified at the feel of the steel pressed against her exposed throat. North stared back, shocked and confused before he rolled off the girl with an annoyed snort. Though her name escaped him at the moment, North recognized the girl; she was a new settler to their village, arriving with her mother and hoard of little sisters hardly a month before. North kept a close eye on her as she sat up and smoothed down her hair – though there wasn't much point as her dark hair was naturally messy in a bird-feather like fashion – unable to think of a reason for the girl to have followed them.

"North!" Aster called, rushing over at the sound of the commotion, Sandy right on his heels. They both came to a dead stop at the sight of the newcomer.

"Who's that?" Aster asked after a moment.

"Intruder. She is following us," North responded, still staring pointedly at the girl as she straightened herself out.

"Why?" the younger man question now sporting a similar look of suspicion as his elder.

"I can help you," she answered simply and confidently despite the small tremor in her voice.

"You will do no such thing. You are going straight back to village."

"I can't."

"You will," North argued back.

"I _can't_. I made a promise and I can't go back unless I keep it."

"What promise?" Aster cut in before North could rebuff her again. The suspicion in his eyes melted into something softer and North held back a sigh.

Violet eyes turned to focus on Aster. They sized the young, muscular man up, before they filled with tears. She brought a fist up to her trembling lips and tried to collect herself before meeting his eyes.

"They killed them," she managed with a sob. "Those men killed my family. My mother, my baby sisters; slaughtered them right in front of me. Just a group of babies, and they butchered them. Now it's just me and my last sister, we're all that's left now.

"And I promised her, I promised that I would make them pay for what they did. I am not going back to tell her that I failed."

"What is your sister's name?" North interjected, seeing as Aster was very clearly moved to her side and therefore wouldn't be the one to ask.

"What?"

"Her name, the name of the girl who is all you have."

The girl's lips thinned, insulted at the tone that clearly said he didn't believe her. Her still teary eyes flashed and burned a hole into North's.

"Taneisha. Her name is Taneisha. She's seven years old," she said defiantly.

"Then you should be with her."

"North, she's all alone. We can't send her back by herself," Aster objected, and North groaned at the obvious puppy face the younger man sent him before his dreamy stare wandered back to the girl. No, no, no, he could not deal with this. Not only was Aster taking her side, he was infatuated with the girl. Why, why him; he didn't have enough in him to put up with _puppy love_ on top of everything else.

"I can help you. I know what you're dealing with," she hastily added when North made to contradict her again.

The bearded man froze, mouth partially open in protest. He closed his gaping mouth slowly, letting out a sigh. He sat by the fire motioning for the girl to do the same.

"What do you know?"

"Let me stay," she countered.

"Tell me, then we discuss that."

The girl sighed but nodded, sizing the man up with calculating eyes North could admire. The girl had the makings of a fine hunter, something he would keep to himself until the appropriate time, of course—namely after he had his family back. She nodded once more, settling on her heels in front of him and holding his gaze to affirm her truthfulness as she plunged forward.

-Line Break – Line Break –Line Break-

After four days of marching, the villagers were exhausted and scared beyond belief. Staying strong despite the terror, but tired. After six days, the flame of resistance was dwindling within the group of captives. By day eight, everyone was too worn down to even think of fighting or being strong.

Jack's shoulder still throbbed and burned painfully and for a time he was worried that despite the precautions the wound had still gotten infected. Luckily, after further inspection that didn't seem to be the case, but no matter the proof, Jack was worried. So was his mother and Emma, even though she was just mirroring the tension from Katherine and Jack. Children were intuitive, after all, and even if she didn't understand what had her family so afraid, it still made her uneasy.

But there was nothing to be done. By the time they'd arrived at their final destination on the eighth day, no one could spare any of their raw, grated emotions care, Jack and his family included. And their final destination seemed to be—another camp. Yes, it was a significantly bigger camp than those of their previous stops, this one with some semi-permanent buildings, but it was a camp nonetheless. In fact, had it not been for the captain's very clear announcement of their arrival, Jack wouldn't have known this was their final stop. Or cared, really. But despite its unimpressive look, it seemed this camp was, in fact, where their captors were taking them all along.

"Company, halt!" The captain shouted from up front, seeming to think that he was hilarious, if the laugh in his tone was anything to go by.

The line of villagers came to a stuttered stop, many of them all but collapsing in their exhaustion. While the people lay slumped, the swarm of cloaked men moved from the edges of the camp and cut them loose. Then the newly freed villagers were herded into smaller groups before they could even think to run. Not that they would have had the energy to do so anyway. Marching for days on end was certainly a good way to crush down aby fight, Jack had to admit, if a bit grimly, as he and the others of his smaller group were ushered at sword point, then forced onto their knees.

"Alright everyone: shoes off!" Another order from the captain, this one barked as the man circled Jack's group. Apparently the man just refused to leave Jack alone, which was very aggravating.

The command drew a number of confused looks, but the group did as they were told, slowly removing their various foot coverings. Jack eyed the captain while he removed his own shoes, supporting his sister as the little girl snuggled against him. Why were they taking off their shoes? Did these guys have a shoe fetish? Heh, maybe that was why they kidnapped the villagers, Jack thought with a grin.

Although, as they were forced to their feet and marched into the camp, Jack realized there was a much more practical reason. The ground was covered in barbs, broken glass and all manner of other sharp objects in a circled perimeter around the camp. Escaping with bare feet would be painful if not completely impossible. Well played, he had to admit.

Once their feet were exposed, they were marched, bare feet and all, through scorching sand and into the camp, some marched over the booby-trapped ground just to make sure the point sunk in. Then they were separated into yet another set of different groups. A number of strangers, obviously held much longer than the villagers from their battered appearances, were forced from the shabby buildings and automatically fell into lines. The new captives were forced to do the same.

Men and women pushed into isolated groups, children into another, oldest to youngest.

Despite Jack's protests, he was yanked kicking and screaming from his sister and forced to the front of the 'children' line up. Emma reached for him as she was dragged further down the line, tears streaming down her little face as she cried for her brother. And then she was out of sight. The only thing that kept him from running to his sobbing sister – he could hear her tears from further down the line – was the sword leveled at his throat. As it was, all he could do was stand there, and wait for whatever the men had in store for them next.

"Well then, welcome to headquarters," the captain announced, arms spread wide to gesture to the camp as he addressed the lines. "I realize that you must be confused and afraid; and that's not likely to change any time soon," he added with a laugh. Jack had the feeling the captain found himself utterly hilarious, and loved to hear himself talk.

"Now, let me explain why you're here, as I'm sure you're all wondering. Lot of answers to that, really. Practicality. Entertainment. Slave labor, I'm really fond of that one. But the short answer? You're here for anything we want."

Yeah, that did nothing to soothe the raging terror in the group. The implication destroyed any semblance of composure they had left, really.

He heard a woman break into sobbing tears somewhere further up the line. And for some reason, that terrified him more than the sword pressed to his throat. After all, nothing says you're royally screwed more than the adults weeping like the children.

A loud smack that cut off the woman's crying and the captain was talking again. However, Jack couldn't focus on what he was saying, even though he probably wouldn't have listened regardless. No, he couldn't think past the cold terror that took a sudden grip on his heart. It was more than just the fear from the new level of hopeless from the woman's break-down, he realized after a moment. It was different, cold and all consuming, leaving him unable to move.

He didn't know the exact cause, but something set fear into his heart more than seeing the men ready to invade his home, more than being taken by said men, more than seeing adults break into tears like babies. And he couldn't look around for the source – and he could feel the presence digging into his back, watching him—as there was a sword at his vulnerable throat. His skin crawled but unable to find the presence, Jack shoved the feeling aside. There were more pressing issues to deal with at the moment. Like the cloaked men making their way down the line.

There was only a handful of them, the captain among them, all slowly walking along the line of men and women. And, much to Jack's confusion, they each selected one of the trembling villager and dragged them off to the side. Jack's brow furrowed as he watched them. Now what did these crazy men want? His confusion melted into pure horror as one of their cloaked captors came to a stop in the children line. In front of him, to be specific.

The man— one of the few without a hood shrouding his face but still just as tall, dark and creepy as the rest of them – looked Jack up and down appraisingly. His eyes glinted as a sharp smile crawled over his face, excited and perverse and the look made Jack's skin crawl and he gave a shudder of disgust and unease. The sword at his throat pressed harder against his throat in response and Jack tensed with a tiny gasp. The kidnapper holding him tightened his grip with a growl, one that didn't even sound like it should come from anything _close_ to human and sent a jeer to the other man as he pressed the blade so hard to Jack's skin that he could feel the sharp edge prick the skin of his neck. He winced and closed his eyes tight prepared to feel his life blood spill from him as his skin was ripped apart at the jugular, but luckily the blade only gave another threatening press that just teetered on breaking the skin before retreating completely. The man holding him let go and Jack barely let out a relieved breath when he heard a barked laugh that had him tensing up again.

"Now, now; there's no need to tease, Everett," he joked with a leer over Jack's head. Then that leer was turned on him and Jack quailed under it. "You're supposed to leave that to me," he added, dragging a finger from Jack's chin to the hollow of his throat. Jack shuddered and flinched away, but the man only grabbed his shoulder in a bruising force and went to drag him forward.

The captain brought him to a halt before he took more than a step away, his own hand firm on the man's shoulder.

"No. That one's on reserve," he said simply.

Jack's stomach gave a flip at the wording. 'On reserve'. Like he was some kind of trading card. A toy.

The man's brow furrowed as he looked as his captain, first in confusion and then in anger. His grip on Jack's shoulder tightened to the point that Jack was sure his fingers were going to break skin and he pulled the teenager almost flush to his chest, making a kind of growl low in his throat. The captain responded with a similar sound and Jack was reminded eerily of wolves prepping to fight over prey. His stomach clenched and did another little dance.

"But _I_ want him," the man whined, breaking eye contact. "He's so…" He took a deep breath threw his nose, running his tongue over his teeth, teeth that suddenly looked much too sharp, as he looked Jack over once again.

"That's the point. You know why we save those ones."

The man gave another growl but he shoved Jack away, stalking father down the line and snagging another kid –another boy, about eleven – and standing to the side with the others. The captain smiled down at Jack and giving his hair an affectionate ruffle. Jack was too shaken and cold inside to push the hand away.

"Alright everyone, we'll be taking you to your sleeping quarters now. You will be separated be age and gender. You will go without fight. Anyone who shows the slightest hint of resistance will be cut down, without exception." That last part was directed at Jack; he could tell by the stern stare the captain sent him when he paused. Jack tried to meet the stare with an icy one of his own, but he doubted it was all that effective.

And, other than twist and try to locate his sister, Jack didn't fight as he was herded away. The groups were once again divided to just a handful of people in each tiny faction. He ended holed up in a shack that served as their 'quarters' with a group of ten boys, all younger than him. He lay curled up on his tiny bed forming the tightest ball his body would allow as he tried to block out the weeping of the other boys and the how sick he felt inside.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-

Being lined up in such away became the norm over the next couple of days. Every day at dawn they were jerked out of their beds. Then, any male over twelve was separated from the main group and forced to a horse drawn wagon, over the perimeter of shards and barbs and into a vast, empty field. There they labored until dusk, digging and hacking endlessly into the soil for no apparent reason; not far agriculture or architecture. Nothing other than to wear them down.

Jack didn't know what happened to the women and girls during that time.

Once the sun began to sink below the horizon, the men were herded back to the wagons and rolled back to the camp. Then they were once again forced into the lines; men and women, girls and boys, oldest to youngest. And the men, always the same ones, would wander down the line and drag a villager or older captive – the few that remained— and stand to the side. Women were grabbed for the most part, the occasional man, and once in a heart wrenching while, a child would be selected. None of them were ever seen again, and the men picked a new captive every night.

It was on night three of their stay at the camp that Jack felt something change. Something in the air and in the routine of the day. The line of men only stood to the side instead of making their way down the lines, hands clasped in front of them respectfully. Jack eyed the suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, but kept his head down. He'd taken to doing that lately: keeping his head down. Avoiding the jeering gazes of his captors, not causing trouble or pushing limits as he normally would, not fighting. Staying docile. Controlled.

It grated at his pride, but he was just so _tired_—it was getting harder to fight them. Looking back at it, he supposed that was what they were waiting for. They must have been waiting for his will to fight to crack. That must have been why things changed.

Whispering broke out down the line and the older 'residents', as the men called them, fell to their knees. After a moment's hesitation, many of the villages followed suit, having learned the best way for survival by following the oldest survivors, so they did so without question. Only a handful remained on their feet, Jack included. And as such, he could see the cause of the stir.

It was a carriage, a gilded one, like the ones of ancient royalty Jack had read about in his story books his father prided himself on bringing him. It was obviously quite valuable and therefore whoever behind it quite important. It was made of dark material, wood or stone, Jack couldn't tell, and embroiled by high valued dark jewels. Draped over the top and down the sides a long, dark veil. Dark, dark, dark: everything about it was dark. Just like everything else in this horrid place. And behind the veiled opening, Jack could see a thin shadow, holding itself rigid and regal.

The captain strolled over, throwing Jack a blank, chilling look as he leaned in to whisper to the shadow. Jack had only a moment to think that maybe he should have just sunk to the ground like everyone else – even if it would have made him sick – when whatever conversation between the captain and the shadow figure was done and the captain straightened. And sent a cruel, triumphant look to Jack. The teenager's heart froze in his chest, but before he could fight, or run, both his arms were seized and he was dragged, kicking and screaming, away from the others.

"NO!" was all he could think to say, or do. He struggled. He flailed about. He clawed and bit at the men restraining him, but it did no good. Just like the night he was captured with his village, there was nothing Jack could do against these men but scream and hopelessly fight, yelling a mantra of 'no!' all the way. He vaguely heard his mother and sister call for him over his own hysteria, but he couldn't see them and they had no hope of reaching him.

The men dragged him down the camp, to the center building. Then he was dragged to a large room and promptly tossed in and locked inside. He landed in a heap of limbs and spared half a second for panicked hyperventilation on the floor before bolting to the door. There he spent quite a bit more time in a panic, pounding on the door. He slammed his meager body weight at the frame in attempts to break it down, clumsily fiddle with the lock and just desperately clawed at it in frantic attempts to get out before he finally managed to gather himself. Jack took a shaky breath, chided himself for stupidity, and rested his forehead against the wood of the doo as he forced himself calm. Only when his breath was steady did he glance around the room. And the sight almost sent him back into a panic.

He was in a _bed_room. A huge black satin bed was one of the few features in the room, along with a vanity and handful of old, expensive decorations. And the damn thing took up half the room! Shock followed on the heels of panic and instantly, both were snuffed out by anger.

Was this what they were trying to 'reserve' him for? His 'higher purpose'? Oh. _Hell_. No. Jack may not have known what happened to the captives who were never seen again, but he could give a some-what educated guess. He'd heard what these kind of men – pirates and the likes – were known to do with their captives. Generally their female captives, but he also knew _that_ kind of thing wasn't always based on sexual attraction. It could happen to men to, he knew. But, damn it, _that_ was _not_. Going. To Happen. _To Him_. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Resolve set, Jack tore through the room. A weapon, he needed a weapon. He tried at the decorations hanging on the wall first as a number of them were antique swords and daggers, but they were all too heavy and well mounted for him to lift. So he tore the bed apart, because anyone this evil had to sleep with a knife under his pillow, right? And when that yielded no such luck, he went to the vanity, desperate to find any means to defend himself before the shadow figure came for him. Finally, to his great relief, he found one. A small jeweled dagger, a letter opener, really. Not much, but it would work.

Jack tested the weight of the dagger in his hand and faced the door, tensed and ready for a fight. Whoever Mister Shadow Form was, he was going to lose his fucking dick if he so much as came near Jack. The grim though had only just formed and the idea to conceal himself following it when a deep, throaty chuckle had the teenager whipping around to face the shadows in the back of the room.

"Well now, there is something about you that deserves interest, it seems. And I was beginning to think you were just going to be another utter bore after that little scene. That would have been such a disappointment after how Onyx boasted over finding you. I do enjoy being wrong, every once in a while."

The voice came from somewhere in the shadows, but Jack couldn't find a face to go with it. Jack didn't like that voice.

Jack identified the drawl as British easily, many of the people in his village migrated from that area. But the voice didn't have the pleasant intonation of his fellow villagers. It was slimy, dark, dangerous. It scared him. Determined to hide that fact, Jack made a show of his dagger as he faced the shadows.

"Where are you?" he demanded, getting only another chuckle in return.

"Feisty. I think this will truly prove to be a treat."

Jack caught movement out of the corner of his eye just by the enormous bed. He turned just in time to see a man _emerge from the shadows_!

Tall, Jack noted numbly, his mind still trying to wrap around that emerge from the shadows bit. Jack observed the man, backing away as his mind cleared. Not only was he tall, the man was dark, not that should have been much of a shock by that point. And there was his snark, good sign to have that back. Jack snapped out of his self-congratulation when his eyes wandered to meet the man's, a good two feet above his own line of sight.

Those eyes were an otherworldly, sickly yellow with flecks of silver, staring out at him from a grey face. Grey! Who had grey skin? He'd never seen anything like it, or those eyes. They held his gaze, seeming liked they glowed, boring intensely into his soul. Bringing a cold terror unlike anything he'd felt…. Once! Once before, the day he was brought here. This man had been watching him!

Any anger Jack would have felt over that was lost in the glow holding his focus. He was frozen by it. Then the man chuckled and broke eye contact, and Jack came back to himself. He brought the knife back up as the man circled him, coming closer with each pass.

"Stay back!" He warned, trying to sound intimidating. It came off as more of a frightened whisper.

"No need to be so afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

"You are," He countered, still circling him. "Afraid of what I want you for. Afraid of why I have you in _my_ room."

Jack flinched at that and back away. The man leered in response.

"But fear not. I have no interest in your body."

"Excuse me if I don't believe you," Jack snarled, taking a swipe at the circling man who just danced out of his way with a laugh.

"Such spirit!" The dark man crowed, staying just out of range of Jack's knife as the boy continuously slashed at him. "I like that," he added, really contradicting the 'not-interested-in-you-like-that' statement.

Jack snarled and dashed forward, intent on driving his dagger into the man's stomach. All he got for his effort was to have his wrist was seized in a tight grip that almost broke the bone. Then he was pulled flush to the man's chilled body, the man's other hand clamping down on Jack's shoulder. He yelled and flailed, realizing his mistake too late. But his wrist was trapped in an iron grip and he was totally defenseless, oh god this was not happening!

"It adds an extra _spice_ to the flavor," the man finally finished.

Jack stopped his struggling when he noticed the man was still talking, and looked up to try and riddle out that last comment. He was once again trapped in that glowing gaze and the man smiled. And his teeth! No, those weren't teeth. Those were _fangs_. Sharp, long fangs where his canines should have been, and they only seemed to get longer and sharper the wider the man's smile grew.

Realization sunk into his stomach and Jack screamed. The man darted forward, cutting off the boy's high pitched shriek of terror as he clamped his jaw around Jack's neck and sank his teeth – fangs! – into the skin of his throat.

-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break –

The four sat silently around the fire, letting the information hang heavily in the air. Ahead of them, Jack was huddled with his mother and sister as they listened to the screams of yet another family that they would never see again come morning and as they awaited the next day's march to where the nightmares really began. The men blinked dumbly at the girl who stared back steadily.

"Eh… pardon?" North finally heard himself asking.

"You know, bloodsuckers? The undead? They who walk the night?"

"Yes, we know what vampires are!" Aster snapped. "It's just, they're supposed ta be myths," he added in a gentler voice. The girl let out a snorted laugh and shook her head.

"You guys have fought all manner of nasty monsters since you settled in your village, and this you have a hard time believing?" She asked incredulously.

"How do you know of them?" North questioned, still trying to wrap his mind around the information.

"There are, special hunters who deal with vampires. My father was one," she admitted after a moment.

"And where is he?"

"Dead," she replied with no hesitation, though it clearly saddened her. And how could it not, when she'd lost so much to there monsters, "He went to destroy a nest, and he never came back."

"Nest?" Aster questioned after a moment of silence.

"This nest, to be specific," she continued, either missing the real point to Aster's question or ignoring it. "I recognized them."

"How?" North pressed.

"They tried this with my village, too. It's a pattern of this nest – they target villages with vampire specialized hunters. They'll lure hunters away on some kind of goose chase, leaving the families vulnerable." North flinched at that, remembering the report of a monster that they spent three days looking for and could never find. "After that," she went on, "they round up those who remain in the village. It's the best way to break down a strong hunting group. The old, 'hit-'em-where-it-hurts-most' ploy.

"Luckily, our village was comprised almost entirely of hunters; we were able to fight them off long enough for my father to return with the other men."

"What do they do ta the ones that're taken?" Aster asked, uneasy of the answer.

"They're vampires; take a guess."

Aster let out as small curse, hiding his face in his hands for a moment. North felt like doing the same – hiding seemed such a good option in light of all this – but he kept his gaze on the girl. She met the stare steadily. He studied her. She studied him right back before nodding, seeming to come to a well though decision.

"I'm going to help you," she declared.

The three men gave a start, and shared a look. Sandy cocked an eyebrow and stared, perfectly conveying the question on all of their minds. Say _whaaa_?

The girl shrugged, still confident in her verdict.

"I'm the only one who really knows what you're up against. Unless you want to die, or act like dogs chasing your tails for the next couple of days while the nest gets even farther ahead with your family, you'll let me come with you. If you think I'm risking suck perfect, snow touched incisors, you've got another thing coming!" She added in a rush when North opened his mouth to speak. All traces of the cold-headed woman were gone and in her place was and over-excited, gushing child. The whiplash left North blinking in confusion as he tried to decipher that last bit.

"Huh?" was all he could say as a genius response.

The girl blushed and smiled shyly, obviously embarrassed by her outburst. "Your son has beautiful teeth," she muttered in explanation, doing nothing to relieve North's confusion.

"Ya realize we're ta save _all_ of Jackie, not just 'is teeth, yeah?" Aster pointed out tersely, although the girl's clear interest in Jack, even if it was only his teeth, clearly irked the man.

Oh, heaven above give him the strength to deal with this! North sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the girl babbled assurances to Aster, gushing that she understood perfectly well the seriousness of the situation and of course Jack needed to be intact to keep his perfect teeth safe! Give him lots of strength, he added with an upward glance before he focused back on the girl.

"What is your name?" He asked, drawing the girl's attention from Aster, who looked like he was getting quite the headache.

"Tooth," she replied quickly. "Well, Toothiana," she amended at North's raise brow, "but everyone calls me Tooth because, well,"

"Of the obsession?" Aster offered.

"They really are beautiful."

"Tooth," North acknowledged, stopping another bot of babbling about teeth. "We are, in fact in uncharted territory with this hunt. With all that is on the line, we cannot afford to go forth without a guide. And so, for the sake of my family and our fellow villagers, you're expertise is welcome. You're in," he declared.

Tooth grinned, almost feral, and North really hoped he was doing the right thing. It was his family's, and his village's, only hope.

**Okay, so who saw the vampires coming? ;) And be honest, I want to know how well I hinted at it earlier.**

**Sorry for the delay, college started up and my muse decided to leave me. But here ya go, and it's extra-long. And the gangs all together, isn't that great?! Let me know what you thought.**


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